Gemotions

He hadn't felt the sun on his face in days. The attic was a labyrinth of shadows and discarded objects. The realtor had been insistent, the house had to be cleared. He just wanted to be done, to finish everything.

He stumbled upon a dusty gramophone, its brass horn gleaming faintly in the dim light. He turned the crank, and a scratchy tune filled the air. It was a tune he vaguely recognized from his youth.

As the music played, he felt a strange sense of comfort. She would have loved this. He sat down, letting the music wash over him, letting the melody guide his thoughts.